A fictional interpretation of a song by Passion Pit.

A fictional interpretation of a song by Fall Out Boy

A fictional interpretation of a song by Carrie Underwood.

A fictional interpretation of a song by Lea Michele

A fictional interpretation of a song by Christina Perri.

A fictional interpretation of a Hunter Hayes song.

We started out as strangers, but that’s how it always starts. Everyone’s a stranger until you give them a chance to be something more. It starts with a passing glance, unintentional eye contact, and if it’s weird you look away, and if it’s not you share a smile, and as you walk away you think I want to know that person. And if you’re lucky, that person wants to know you too.
We were lucky. I wanted to know him and he wanted to know me, and the wanting was so great that by the time we finally said hello, I felt like I already knew him, and he felt the same.
We became fast friends.
I don’t trust easily, but I want to. I learned the hard way, though, that simply wanting to trust someone does not make that person trustworthy. In fact, it pretty much guarantees a shattered heart and broken trust.
And so, though I wanted to trust him, I couldn’t. Not at first. But he had a way of putting my fears to rest, and his actions matched his words which was a new and surprising experience for me.
It took time, but eventually I learned to trust him, and when I was finally ready to place my heart in his hands, he smiled and said “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that. I love you too.”
That was the day he taught me patience and persistence can make any dream come true.
Before there was love and the trading of hearts, there was only friendship. Or at least that’s what I told myself. Everyone knew he felt something more, and if I’m being honest, I did too, but that didn’t stop me from denying it.
“We’re just friends.” I would say, and when I’d face a response of raised eyebrows and skepticism I’d add, “I don’t want a relationship right now.”
And that was a sufficient response because while everyone knew how much he wanted me, how much I wanted him, they also knew how much I wanted to make my career dreams come true. Work came first. That could be understood.
Until it couldn’t anymore.
The thing about dreams is that you will always have them. When one comes true (or doesn’t), another one comes along to take it’s place. We can never stop wanting something more. We’ll keep reaching until we’re gone.
My career dreams came true much sooner than I had expected. But that’s the way it works. Dreams never come true when we think they will because if they did, we’d stop trying so hard to reach them.
When my dream came true, I started reaching for another one. We hadn’t spoken in a while, so I wasn’t expecting much.
I suppose that’s why another dream came true.
Too often we’re conditioned to believe that our dreams can’t come true. We’re told that it’s the fictional stuff of fairytales and Hollywood. But the truth is, dreams do come true. Every day in every lifetime. Maybe it doesn’t happen like it does in the movies or in the stories, but it does happen. With enough patience and persistence, anything can.
But there were times I found everything hard to believe. Perhaps there was still a part of me who felt I didn’t deserve the dream come true. Perhaps I had been led to believe far too long that life was not fair, that we did not always get what we wanted, no matter how hard we tried.
“Why do you want me?” I asked him.
He smiled and took my hand, kissed my lips, and wrapped his arms around me. And then he answered.
“I want you because of this right here. I want you so I can hold you and kiss you and call you mine. I want you because everything that doesn’t make sense, makes sense when I’m with you. I want you because I need you as much as I need to breathe.” He said. “But most of all, I want you because you deserve to know every second of every day that you are wanted. You always will be.”
And so I learned the power of wanting.
Perhaps wanting is enough. Enough to give us everything we wanted, and enough to make our dreams come true.
It was certainly enough for me.

A fictional interpretation of a song by Cute is What We Aim For

She didn’t drink.
At least that’s what she told herself. Just this once. She’d think. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and these were desperate times.
It started when she lost the ring. It wasn’t new, had been in the family for years, and was more valuable than she could ever hope to be. She had seen the way her sister-in-law-to-be had looked at her left ring finger the night they announced their engagement.
“You’re so lucky.” She had said, a glass of champagne in her manicured hands. “I always thought I would get the ring, but my dear older brother had to show me up yet again and be the first to get engaged!”
She had laughed, but it was the kind of laugh you weren’t supposed to laugh along with. It was the kind of laugh you were supposed to be afraid of.
And then she had lost the ring which was already bad enough. 
But it was only an omen for the trouble ahead.
Three days and one extraordinary fight over the lost ring later, she found her fiancé in bed with a man.
“I’m sorry.” He had said. “You weren’t supposed to see this. You weren’t supposed to know… Nobody can ever know about this, okay? I’ll still marry you if you want.”
I’ll still marry you if you want. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse: his cavalier attitude toward their marriage or the fact that their entire relationship had been built upon lies.
She called off the wedding, and moved out of his apartment the next day. She hadn’t lived alone in seven years, but she found she could quickly find company at the bar just below her apartment. A few drinks, and she wouldn’t even have to think about it. Or anything. She would only feel.
“Hey, you wanna get outta here?” The guy sitting next to her at the bar asked.
His features were blurry, his intentions were even more so, but she didn’t care. All she knew was that his touch on the small of her back was setting off flames of desire, and erasing her loneliness.
“Yes.” She said. “My place is upstairs.”
She took his hand and led the way thinking, he wants me. There’s a lot of guys here, but he wants me not them. And that was good enough for her.
They fumbled around in the dark until they found the bed, and afterward, before she fell asleep, as she lay naked in the stranger’s arms, she thought this is nice. I’m not alone anymore.
But in the morning the stranger was gone, leaving only his imprint on the bed and the smell of sex behind. She didn’t even know his name. She pretended not to care. And when night fell, she returned to the bar.
“I think you’ve had enough, little lady. You’re better off sober anyway.” The bartender said when she asked for her third vodka cranberry. “One of these days, you’re gonna get ‘cher self hurt real bad.”
“No, no. Just one more. One more is all.” She said. “I’m not drunk I promise. Just one more, one more.”

But it wasn’t just one more. It never was.